by Kaylea Cross
Hearts and minds.
But somehow Dmitri Volkov had already beaten them in the race for hearts and minds. They were playing catch-up in a place very few people cared about.
Dempsey tapped the photos in his breast pocket, scanned the crowd and felt the dull thump of his pulse as he realized he was looking for Axelle. He looked at the sky and blinked hard. Axelle was gone.
She’d forget about him the moment she got back to her leopards.
The sun burned his eyes, and his throat felt like someone had stripped it with turpentine. He gripped his carbine and jerked his chin. “Time to move out.”
* * *
A chauffeur-driven limo pulled up outside Jonathon’s Fulham home and he locked his front door behind him. He’d bought this terraced home in the late Fifties before the area got trendy. After his wife and daughter died, he’d had it divided into three flats, and made enough money from the rental to buy a property near the coast, plus a smart little yacht.
The chauffeur opened the car door for him and Jonathon climbed in.
“Good morning,” he said to Rear Admiral Walter Jenkins. Arrogant old sot. The driver shut the door and climbed into his seat, nosed out into rush-hour traffic.
“Finally see what these people think is so ruddy Top Secret, huh?” Walter grumbled, helping himself to coffee.
“Some James Bond space weapon, I’m sure.” Jonathon replied drolly, then opened his paper. He yawned. It had been a late night. An operational success, not to mention physically pleasurable. Just as well he’d waited until afterwards to tell Lucinda his secret though. Poor woman had turned into a blithering wreck when he’d told her beloved Sebastian had been shot in the back by a Soviet traitor. How long would it take her to tell her son, he wondered, glancing at his watch. Had she phoned him straightaway? No, she’d brood for a few hours. Have a shower and try to pretend she hadn’t spent the night shagging her husband’s best friend before she phoned David. He checked his watch again. He should have plenty of time.
“They probably got the idea from Ian Fleming.” The admiral laughed at his own wit.
“Art mimicking life mimicking art?” Jonathon raised a brow and crossed his legs. The admiral looked uneasy at the effeminate gesture and inched back, nursing his coffee as the driver weaved through the commuter lanes. Jonathon smiled.
“I see Warwick were all out for fifty-five.” Jonathon knew the other man supported Yorkshire. The man preened and Jonathon told him the rest of the cricket scores. He’d always been fascinated by the loyalty people had to their place of birth.
They stopped off to pick up the next member of the committee. He hid a smile but excitement made his chest hum. Dmitri Volkov was being hunted by some of the most deadly forces in existence. No way would he get the chance to open his disloyal mouth before they put pretty little bullet holes in his hide. And as soon as Jonathon found the rest of the Volkov clan, he was looking forward to wiping them out too. One rat at a time.
* * *
Axelle stared in disbelief as Sir Ian Turner, OBE, Chairman of the Conservation Trust, threw back the flap of her tent and walked out. She thanked the helicopter crew for the ride. They’d wanted to take her to a military base, but hadn’t balked too much when she’d explained she had to pack up her equipment and would get the next available flight out. Yeah. Right.
She jumped down. Josef and Anji both ran toward her and she was engulfed in Josef’s giant hug.
“I thought you were dead,” he shouted over the noise of the departing chopper. Emotion was stark on the big man’s face and he grabbed her for another hug. “Oh my God. I thought you were dead.”
Anji hopped on his heels. “You safe. You safe.”
Axelle clasped Josef for a moment and smiled at Anji. She waved at the departing chopper, watching until it disappeared over the next bluff, and used the time to contemplate why the big boss was here.
“I got trapped inside a mountain.” She let herself shudder. Dempsey had taught her it was okay to show weakness. It didn’t actually make you weak.
“You’re okay? The soldier? He found you? He’s alive?” Anxiety was clear in Josef’s gaze.
A surge of pain hit. Fresh. Devastating. He wasn’t dead. He was just gone. “He saved my life, but they didn’t catch the poacher yet. That man is still on the run and the soldiers are tracking him.” She held her boss’s gaze. “What are you doing here, Ian?”
He looked uncertain for a moment. “We should talk inside.”
“No. You can speak in front of Josef and Anji. They deserve to know what’s going on.” She braced her arms across her chest and widened her stance. She had the feeling whatever he had to say, the others would find out soon enough anyway.
He shifted his feet. Took a breath. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to relieve you of your position as project head.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice dropped low but the guy didn’t catch on to the danger.
He stretched his brows high and wide, looking both obsequious and dismissive. “You’ve willfully disregarded the Trust’s orders and have been responsible for the death of several leopards and the removal of three radio collars against clear instruction. We’ve lost at least half of the sample size—”
“I saved the lives of as many leopards as I could from a ruthless poacher.”
“From what I understand he wasn’t after the leopards at all.” He swatted a fly. “He was after you, which makes you unfit for this position.”
Her fingers curved into fists. Axelle looked at the ground. She could argue the point, but that was the reality of what had happened. “Who’s taking over?” Her bones felt like they’d crumbled. Leopards were dead and it was her fault.
He pressed his lips together, clearly surprised by her lack of opposition. Josef looked like he’d been pole-axed.
“Myself for now.” He was an asshole administrator but had once been an adequate wildlife biologist. “Until we can bring someone else out here for the long term.”
There would be plenty of volunteers for such an exciting and illustrious position.
“What about Josef?”
Turner looked uneasy. “He’s going to have to transfer supervisor if he hopes to continue—”
Josef stirred his mountainous frame. “Dr. Dehn is the best in the world at what she does but you make me work with someone else?”
“I’m not making you do anything,” Turner snapped. “You can quit any time you want. Dr Dehn has set this project back decades. Do you know how much bad publicity hurts an organization like ours?”
“Don’t yell at Josef. He didn’t do anything wrong.” God, she was tired. She could barely stand, let alone argue, but she walked over to Turner. “You find Josef a decent supervisor or I’ll sue both you and the Trust for unfair dismissal. I was kidnapped and nearly died during the rescue and the first thing you do is fire me? Oh, yeah, that’s gonna look real good in the press. And given who my father is, believe me there is gonna be press.” She shoved past the man and into the main yurt. She booted her laptop and Sat Link.
Anji came and stood beside her. “I am sorry, Dr. Dehn.” He wrung his fingers together.
Axelle forced herself to take a steadying breath and give him a smile. “You are the most important person here.” He would train more rangers. Protect more leopards than she could ever hope to reach. “I’m relying on you, Anji. Don’t let me down.” The way she’d let everyone down.
She felt numb. Dead inside. It was a sensation she recognized and no longer felt comfortable with. Her adventures with Tyrone Dempsey had changed her life; it was time to try to find a new normal.
Turner came inside, but she ignored him, busy checking her email and packing things away. “Where are the cubs?” she asked Anji.
“I sent them to Kabul,” Turner answered instead. “They will be raised in the zoo there. A symbol of hope for the future of Afghanistan.”
Everything inside her stilled. A hot rage engulfed her body. “A symbol o
f hope? I asked you to send someone out here to try and keep them habilitated to the wild. That would have been a symbol of hope, not a goddamned cage.”
“It wasn’t feasible—”
“You never even tried!” she yelled. “You could have done something revolutionary, something extraordinary, but you didn’t even try.” Fury burned through her, melting her fatigue, her misery. She’d almost died and this pompous ass hadn’t even broken a sweat in his efforts to save the leopards from a fucking concrete zoo. The director of Kabul Zoo himself had said endangered species had no place in his zoo. It was too volatile. Too open to attack.
“You’ve said enough, Dr. Dehn. Pack your belongings and leave immediately. There’s a flight that you can catch this afternoon.”
She jerked out the leads to the laptop and Sat Link.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Turner took a step forward and put his hands on her elbow.
She faced him and made sure he understood exactly what would happen if he touched her again. “This is my equipment, and as I’m no longer wanted here, I assume you remembered to bring your own?” It was small. It was childish. It felt magnificent. “The van’s mine too. Josef and Anji can use it, but you do not have permission.” She carefully placed each piece of equipment in its case and pictured him on the dirt bike or one of the horses, which did belong to the Trust.
“You can’t do this. It’ll take at least ten days to replace this stuff.” He put his hand on her arm and she thought about breaking his fingers. “Think of the animals—”
She pushed him away. “The animals are all I ever think about, you jerk. You can collect scat and hair samples until the new equipment gets here. Now get out of my way.”
She went to her yurt and saw that Turner had already made himself comfortable. The mourning period had been brief. She stripped the room of everything that belonged to her, including the sheets and pillow on the hard cot.
“I can come with you.” Josef spoke quietly from the doorway.
“Stay here. Help Anji.” Emotion threatened to make her knees crumple but she couldn’t afford that weakness. “At least someone who knows what they’re doing should be here for our cats.”
He caught her hand and held her gaze. In his eyes she read feelings that had nothing to do snow leopards. How had she missed all the signals?
Because she’d been dead inside. Until Dempsey she’d been an emotional black hole regarding anything except her animals. She touched his dear face. “I can’t be anything other than your friend and supporter, Josef. Even if I wasn’t your supervisor…”
He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I know.” He pressed his lips together. “I’ll stay here for now. See what you can do once you get back to Montana. I want to work for you, not that asshole. Not because…” He cleared his throat, then forged on. “Not because of my feelings, but because you’re the best conservation biologist in the world and the Trust is treating you like shit. And I called them in.”
“You had to, Josef. You thought I was dead, remember? Give me a week. I’ll fix this.”
She wasn’t going back to Montana. Not yet. She needed to see her father, a man she hadn’t spoken to in months. She needed to know if he’d ordered an airstrike even though she might die in it.
“Take care of our cats, Josef.” She held his bloodshot gaze, tried not to pity him the same way she hoped Dempsey wouldn’t pity her. At the door Anji shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Now which one of you is giving me a ride to Kurut?”
She smiled when they both hopped in the van. In the rearview, Turner paced uselessly around camp. His visit reminded her why she hated politics and would rather live in a tent in the wilderness than deal with bloodsuckers like him. But this was her new reality and she was going to have to deal with it, whether she liked it or not.
* * *
Dempsey’s patrol had been dropped by helo deep into the Hindu Kush. The ground was soft as most of the fresh snow had melted over the past twenty-four hours. They had a sighting of their prey over the next ridge, heading straight toward them. The old man wasn’t slowing down. It was as if he was possessed. Dempsey used hand signals and Cullen and Baxter faded east. He and Taz hunkered down behind a boulder the size of a small car.
He wanted this bastard. He wanted him so badly he was drowning in it. He waited. Calmed his breathing, felt Taz doing the same thing beside him. They couldn’t afford to give themselves away. The Russian was running from the team on his tail and Dempsey didn’t want this to turn into a firefight or standoff. Nor did he want Spetsnaz turning up and starting WW III.
He’d been ordered to kill the man.
The bosses hadn’t couched it in exactly those terms, but “terminating the threat” seemed pretty unambiguous to him. He remembered the look of terror on Axelle’s face when he’d found her wearing that suicide vest. Oh, yeah, he could kill the old fucker for that alone.
There, finally, the lean shape of his quarry ran toward them with his head down, clutching his side and dragging his left foot. Still he moved doggedly and determinedly. Dempsey couldn’t see any weapons, but the old guy could have a handgun in his pocket. Or a grenade.
When he got thirty feet away Dempsey stood, sighted the gun, and the old man stumbled to the ground, mud splattering in his wake.
Dempsey walked toward the old man as he lay there panting. “Hands up. Let me see them empty, Volkov, else your grandson will never get the help he needs.”
Dmitri lifted his head and stretched his hands slowly into the air. “My grandson? You have heard from my grandson?”
Dempsey stepped closer. “I know he’s sick. I know he shouldn’t be punished for your crimes. The same way you shouldn’t have hurt an innocent woman to try and force your demands.”
“I didn’t hurt her. I could have blown you all up a thousand times but I didn’t.” Dmitri struggled to his knees, keeping his hands nice and wide. Dempsey did not trust this wily old bastard, but he had a point. He hadn’t set any booby traps and he’d saved the cubs’ lives.
These were not the acts of a completely vicious man.
“I did what I had to do to get my grandson out of Russia. Now what?” The old man’s eyes narrowed and he smiled. “I bet they told you to kill me, didn’t they?” He laughed. “Getting an English soldier to shoot me here in this valley seems like the perfect irony.”
Orders had changed. Why? There were a lot of questions about what was going on here that only this man could answer. Who wanted him dead? More important, why?
Taz raised a questioning brow at him. They were soldiers. They weren’t cold-blooded killers even though some people couldn’t tell the difference. There were rules of engagement. But there were also direct orders.
Dempsey had never failed on a mission and always followed orders…except for rescuing Axelle out of that cave.
He wasn’t paid to make the big decisions. He was a soldier. He was a damn good sergeant, and proud to be part of the best regiment on earth. He took another step and watched the light in the old man’s eyes change from defiant to pleading. Volkov raised his chin. “I don’t care about me, but please help my grandson.”
Dempsey nodded. “You have my word.” Then he pulled the trigger.
* * *
There had been a delay. The demonstration the scientists had organized hadn’t happened. They’d toured the facilities—nothing new or exciting to report there. And now they’d been stuffed into the nearest hotel and left to twiddle their thumbs overnight. Still, this kept him conveniently out of the way if Lucinda let slip how she’d come by the information about Sebastian’s death to her overprotective son.
He didn’t want his lights punched out.
Jonathon sipped a nice Bordeaux. Maybe he should pursue Lucinda on a more public level… He mulled the idea over. It had merit. An inside track to the PM. Prestige. Regular sex. It was an interesting thought. He pushed his lips out as he contemplated the pros and cons. Trouble was if Dmitri’s li
ttle surprise did occur, then Jonathon could be arrested and charged with treason. He wasn’t about to spend the last years of his life in some little cell when he could receive a hero’s welcome back in Moscow. No. As soon as he discovered what secrets Aldermaston was hiding he was going home. Finally.
In the meantime, he savored his roast beef dinner. He might as well enjoy himself at the British taxpayers’ expense.
Really, it was what he did best.
* * *
“You’re sure he’s dead?” Captain Prentice asked for the fifth time.
“You can dig him up if you like,” Dempsey told the younger man.
Baxter tossed down the spade, making it clear he wasn’t digging up what he’d just put in the ground. It was hot. Too fucking hot for digging graves in this thin shallow soil.
Dempsey handed the officer a bloody shirt and a photograph of the dead Dmitri Volkov. “That should match the DNA we have on file and, if it doesn’t, then what we have on file is bollocks.” He held the man’s gaze. “He’s dead.”
Dempsey wanted no mistakes here. No doubt. He was not a man who’d ever let his bosses down. With his background he couldn’t afford to.
The chopper hovered over the hill and the captain jogged off. Mission accomplished.
Thank Christ for that. Dempsey sat tight for another ten minutes waiting for the next bird. They needed to get back to Hereford ASAP. They needed to debrief inside RAF Credenhill. Frustration squeezed his chest because he wanted to talk to Axelle. Desperately wanted to tell her all the things that had stuck in his throat earlier because he hadn’t known how to deal with everything he was feeling and wanted—and yes, he wanted.
She didn’t exactly work down the road from him even when he was stationed in Britain. Although distance seemed like the least of the obstacles to their relationship.
Crap.
Fuck.
Relationship?
He rolled his eyes skyward. She wasn’t interested in a relationship. But there had been something in her eyes when they said goodbye…something that connected them on a fundamental level. He’d never felt that sort of connection before and he wanted to explore it. It was time to see if it actually meant something. Time to take a chance on something beside the military.
